


Incompetent Competition

by witnessfortheprosecution



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blood, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and mild angst, Gyms, M/M, Mutual Pining, Volleyball, another fic about athletic Virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witnessfortheprosecution/pseuds/witnessfortheprosecution
Summary: After months of flirty back and forth, Virgil and Roman's relationship comes to a tee during a particularly competitive game of volleyball.





	Incompetent Competition

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Prinxiety fic and I am incredibly proud of the result. Please enjoy.

If there was any place Virgil hoped and prayed that he would never go back to after he graduated, it was the high school gym locker room. The sweaty cesspool of teen angst and hormones made for a humidity that was indescribable to anyone who was not privy to the experience. Sinks were running high and metal was slamming against metal as gym lockers opened and closed harshly for the teens to change into their gym uniforms. 

There were very few seniors who had to take a class for gym, seeing as most got it out of the way in their underclass years. Nevertheless, Virgil was in his last semester of school and has to spend an hour and a half in Sports and Leisure for 2 days out of the week. According to his best friend Logan (who is also taking the class with him), leisure is defined as “use of free time for enjoyment”, and not a day has gone by that Virgil has enjoyed Sports and Leisure. 

Logan and Virgil begrudgingly made their way into the locker room, already packed with those a few years behind them. It felt a tad awkward being one of the oldest people in the class, however the class size was rather large, so nothing too anxiety inducing. 

“What do you think Coach has planned for us today?” Virgil asked, spinning the combination on his locker. 

Logan shrugged, taking off his glasses and then his shirt, “I am not sure. She mentioned last week that we would be doing football on the field, yet it is 10 degrees outside, so I do not believe she is even allowed to take us outside,” 

Virgil opened his locker forcefully, the red door swinging wide hitting the metal behind it, “If she makes us play basketball again, I am going to kill myself,” 

Logan chuckled and shook his head, putting back on his glasses with the uniform shirt on, “If I remember correctly, you were quite good at basketball. Coach let us out early after you dunked a basket,”

Virgil scoffed, kicked off his shoes and then jeans, “Yea, I am good because I am 6’1 and this class is co-ed. I work out as much as you do, Logan,” 

Logan shrugged, copying Virgil’s motions, “That is true. Your hand eye coordination could use a bit of work, though, and you seemed to gravely misunderstand what “double dribbling” means and-” 

“Just because you played basketball for 4 years, doesn’t mean you have to show off, L,” Virgil cut him off, he smacked the waistband of his gym shorts against his hips. 

“Irregardless,” Logan sat down on one of the benches and pulled on a beat up pair of Adidas high tops, “You could at least pretend to care. Coach grades on participation and attitude. You do not want your GPA to slip because of  _ gym _ ,” 

Virgil sighed, shaking his head. He knew that Logan was right, seeing as he has given this speech to Virgil many times before. Yet, it never seems to properly stick in his brain and stay there as a lesson, which frustrates Logan to no end. 

Logan “try hards” in every class he is in, including gym, despite that not being one of his strong suits. Normally, Virgil can at least stay on the same track as his best friend, but with gym, Logan is going 175 in the left lane and Virgil is texting and driving. 

“Fine. I will try in gym today. Instead of 1% effort, I will give 45%,” Virgil yanked off his graphic t-shirt in one fluid motion as Logan groaned in frustration. 

“That is not- That is still a failing grade, V,” 

Virgil shrugged, looking for his uniform, “Still, that is 44% more effort than I-” 

Virgil’s protests to Logan were cut off by a whistle from the other end of their locker nook, “Ow! Looking good today, Virgil. Lookin’ good to-day,” 

Virgil rolled his eyes and groaned and the smirking figure leaning against a wall 20 paces away, “Fuck outta here, Princey,” Virgil grabbed one of his shoes on the ground and threw it in Roman Prince’s direction. He missed terribly and it hit the wall next to where Roman was leaning. The other looked completely unfazed; he just smirked and winked at Virgil, ruffling his perfect brown locks as he waltzed away. 

Virgil’s look of annoyance quickly dissipated and a bright red blush spread across Virgil’s pale cheeks. He shrunk in on himself slightly and a sheepish grin spread across his face. 

The flirty back and forth banter began between Roman and Virgil sometime a few months ago as their Coach had them explore different sports during their class. In one of their first weeks, they did wrestling and Virgil was paired with Roman to fight. The two never really noticed each other, Roman mainly hanging out with other Thespians and Virgil hanging around Logan and some other design students. Their paths never had a reason to cross before now. 

Despite Virgil having half an inch to an inch on Roman height wise, Virgil quickly found himself on the ground with Roman straddling his waist and both of Virgil’s hands pinned above his head. Indeed, it was a very compromising position that allowed Virgil to finally study the figure and face of his opponent, who now Virgil realised looked like he was sculpted by Michelangelo. Roman, ever the empath, must have sensed the ardor coming from Virgil, and allowed Virgil to escape the situation and take victory over Roman in that match. 

Virgil may have won the battle, but he was getting brutally destroyed in the war. Ever since that incident, Roman has had no problem giving Virgil longing looks (that no man can call just ‘friendly’), accidental subtle touches, and not so subtle comments, always leaving Virgil a flustered and blushing mess. 

“Y’know,” Logan’s voice made Virgil jump slightly and removed him from his reverie, “Maybe if you do a good job in class today, you will impress Roman,” 

Virgil went to protest, but the words choked and died in his mouth, leaving him with incoherent sound and protests. 

Logan clapped and hand on Virgil shoulder and made his way out to the gym floor. Virgil, still shirtless, quickly finished getting dressed and tugged on his shoes, following the other. He sat next to Logan on the crappy plastic bleachers as their Coach took attendance to begin the day.

“So today we are not going outside because it is too cold and I frankly would not want to go out in this weather anyway,” She looked at her clipboard and back at the class. “Today we will be playing volleyball. You will be divided into 4 teams that I will choose-” The class groaned collectively, “I do not care if you are not with your friends. Team A is Freshman and Sophomores, last name A through L. Team B is Freshman and Sophmores, M through Z. Team C is Juniors and Seniors, A through L. Team D is Juniors and Seniors, M through Z. We will warm up with partners first and our first game will be A versus B, C versus D.”

Coach blew her whistle and the group quickly scrambled away to their respective sides of the court. Thankfully, Logan and Virgil's last names fell into the same category, so they partnered up doing basic drills like setting and bumping. 

“Now, remember if you can spike the ball over the net,” Coach yelled out to the teens, “Doesn't mean you should. We do not want any injuries today,”

“But can we spike the ball, Coach?” Roman's partner, Patton, tentatively raised his hand and spoke. 

Coach pondered this before sighing, “Just don't hurt anyone or yourself,” 

Patton beamed and began bumping the ball to just himself while Roman watched and laughed. 

“Hey, Patton,” Logan called out to the other. Patton let the ball fall mid-air and ran over to Logan, standing on the other side of the net, “Your last name is Foster, shouldn't you be on our team?” 

Patton's eyes widened a bit behind his round glasses. He looked over at Coach, preoccupied with some underclassmen before putting a finger to his lips and slowly walking away from Logan. 

Logan groaned, casually tossing the ball that was on his hip back to Virgil, “If Patton can spike then we stand no chance of winning. We do not exactly have the most athletically inclined group,” Logan said, dejectedly as his eyes trailed over their teammates. 

Virgil shrugged and began setting the ball to himself out of boredom, “Who cares, it is just a dumb game,” 

“Yes, one that I wish to perform well in and win,” 

“You hold no stake in this,” Virgil said, thinking of what Logan said earlier, “It is not like  _ you _ are trying to impress anyone here,” 

Virgil had to strain his ears to hear Logan mutter, “I wouldn’t say that,” 

Logan put his hands in his pockets and looked off into the distance. Virgil placed the ball on his hip and followed Logan’s line of sight towards Roman and Patton. Patton giggling, trying to toss the ball up as high as possible while Roman interfering. The same type of high school shenanigans that Logan looked down on so often were the same that was giving him a longing, misty look in his eye. 

Before Virgil could say, Coach blew her whistle to begin the games. Everyone except one person from each game put away their volleyballs while Virgil was still standing, rooted to the ground, holding his on his hip. Not wanting to make the effort to walk to the metal container where they were kept, he shot the ball like a basketball into the container a decent distance away. The ball landed directly into the container, and Virgil smiled, impressed with his dexterity. 

“Nice shot, V,” 

Virgil turned around and saw Roman standing on the other side of the court, his hands on his hips and grinning and Virgil. He gave him a quick thumbs up before making his way to the corner of his side of the court, where he would presumably be serving first. Virgil made eye contact with Logan who smirked at him and mouthed a quick, “Told you so,” before getting into position. 

_ “Huh,”  _ Virgil thought,  _ “Maybe I am going to have to try hard volleyball,”  _

****

The game was not going well for Virgil’s team. The score was 7-13 in favor of Roman’s team, and it doesn’t look like they are letting up either. Roman had muscles for days, allowing him to serve the ball quickly over the net, barely giving any time for their ragtag team of misfits to react. 5 out of the 7 points that had been earned were from Logan using fake out techniques to confuse the opponents in the front. Virgil had earned zero points, seeing as he was placed in the back center, never touching the ball. 

“Prince!” Coach called out, silently tweeting her whistle, “Have you been serving this whole time?” He heard her yelled at Roman, slightly cringing in on the white ball. 

“Is- er- is that bad?” 

Coach blew the whistle loudly, gesturing to the teams, “Everyone rotate! Back, come up front, front, go to the back,” She blew her whistle twice more for good measure as everyone dragged their feet to their new position. 

Roman came up in front of the net and touched it, pulling down slightly on the strings, “Fancy seeing you here, Wonder-emo,” He quirked up an eyebrow, “You come here often?” 

“To class?” 

Roman sighed, staring off into the distance, “I do not know how you are going to cope with such a massive loss on your part. Despite the hiccup of us having to “rotate”, we are still going to wipe the floor with your team,” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, “I honestly don't care that much. Save the trash talking for my buddy Logan, he’ll be happy to engage,” 

Roman put both his hands on the net now, “You better watch out, because now you may become victim to one of my awesome spikes. Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty face,” Roman bit his lip and winked. 

Virgil took slowly, calculating breaths to keep him from blushing or making a fool of himself, “Please Princey, I can get it up just as well as you can,” 

Roman’s face split into a shit-eating grin, “That’s what she said,” 

Virgil had to stop himself from screaming. Instead, he opted for another, more petty alternative.

“It’s our ball!” Virgil yelled out, “Rule violation: No one can be touching the net,” Virgil looked at Roman dead in the eyes before catching the flying ball without breaking eye contact, Roman’s eyes filled with disgust and betrayal, snapping his hands back to his sides and off the net.

Virgil lowered his voice once more so only Roman could hear, “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” 

The game continued and Roman’s team’s success went from guaranteed to fleeting, as their new server hit the net multiple times and Roman’s ball spiking was easily intercepted by a junior whose name escaped Virgil. Each time Virgil’s team got a point, his grin would just get wider and wider. Eventually, it was a tie game, both teams quickly reaching 14-14. Virgil was beaming now while Roman practically had steam coming out of his ears. 

“Okay!” Coach yelled out and blew her whistle, “In just about 3 minutes we are going to switch and A will go against D and C will go against B,” 

“Huh,” Virgil said and looked at Roman, “It looks like my team may just take the victory after all,” 

Roman huffed and crossed his arms, “That’s a funny joke, Macabre, calling it ‘your team’. You have not even scored a point,” 

“I set it to her and she-” 

“An assist is not a success, Leonardo Di _ Crap _ rio,” Roman told him, definitively, and walked away as the round began. 

Virgil was not bad at sports, he is more muscular than the average high school senior, hell, he had dunked 2 basketballs before. He knew that he could score a point just to shove it back into Roman beautiful face, they just have to give him a chance. 

His eyes ping-ponged back and forth at the exchange of the ball over the net to both sides. At one point, Roman rushed from the other side of the court to directly in front of Virgil to hit the ball that a distracted junior was going to miss. He hits it to the far right corner with impressive speed and then moves to the center of the court. 

“Mine!” Logan yelled, skidding forward to hit the ball (Virgil still very impressed with his reaction skills). The ball once again was vollied to the other side of the court. 

“Mine!” A cheery voice called out. Patton slid to the center of the court next to Roman and hit the ball to the left hand side of the court. He smacked the ball with imposing velocity and was heading in the space between Virgil and another teammate. 

With a sudden burst of confidence, the words of Roman ringing in his ears, Virgil shouts, “Mine!” and leaps to the center where the white ball was hurtling. 

Virgil knew that time was all relative to human perception and technically was not real. Nevertheless, his surrounds slowly moved to a near halt as he had to make a decision on what to do. He could hear the screams of his teammates in anticipation, as the ball was slowly rolling towards Virgil, and would not be stopped unless he did something.

He was just going to bump it. That is all he wanted to do. Bump the ball and keep their thrilling volley going. Just simply bump the ball, maybe even set it. However, Virgil legs must have hated that idea, as his fight-or-flight response kicked in and they made him jump to a height he did not think he was capable of. He knew he only had one shot at this, so he closed his eyes and smacked the ball downward as hard as possible. The rubber bladder of the ball burned as he hit it with all his might, but he couldn’t help but think about how similar it is to dunking a basketball as he had done previously, unmitigated. 

Virgil’s ankles ached as he hit the ground once again and his ears were roaring from doing such a physical act so suddenly. He opened his eyes and heard his teammates cheering. The senior next to him held up his hand and Virgil high fived him back, suddenly filled with energy. He looked on the other side of the court, and immediately felt his stomach plummet when he saw 3 teenagers circling a body on the ground. 

Virgil rushed to the crowd, standing next to Patton who was mid-conversation, “- just keep your head tilted forward and keep pinching your nose- no, not there Roman,” 

Anyone would have cringed at the sight in the center of the group, but it made Virgil sick to his stomach. In the thick of it all was Roman; perfect, beautiful, incredible Roman, holding his nose and his mouth for dear life as bright red blood quickly dribbled down his hand and onto his shirt. 

“Holy shit,” Virgil cried, “What the hell happened,” 

Roman looked at him with a fiery intensity. A different intensity than on average, this was filled with malice and anger, “You hit me in the nose with your spike, you freaking punk!” Roman whimpered, tears pricking his eyes. He inhaled sharply and groaned, the tears were now spilling from his eyes, “Oh God, I think it’s broken,” 

Any shot Virgil had with Roman broke as soon as he cracked his nose. He covered his hand to his mouth, feeling so incredibly guilty for what he did. Stupid, stupid, stupid Virgil. Apologies weren’t enough, nothing was enough. Yet, he had to say something, anything. But, instead, he opted for staying silent instead. Saying nothing. Covering his mouth so no one could hear the dry sobs he was keeping back from his acquaintances. 

“Roman, here, let me walk you to the Nurse,” Patton held out a hand and Roman took it, his hand still covering half of his face. Roman eyed Virgil the entire way out, using the shorter man as a crutch, and Virgil was rooted to the spot, frozen in a position of sobbing at almost any moment. 

Once the gym doors closed loudly, signalling the pair had left, all eyes turned to Virgil, widen and with shock. 

_ “Too much attention, too much attention, no no no,”  _ And now Virgil did something he should have done with the volleyball: flee. He ran towards the locker room doors, he feet failing him and causing him to stumble a few times. Tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes as he threw open the doors to the room, vaguely processing the desperate cries of his best friend behind him. 

***

 

Virgil hummed contentedly as he was putting his books in his locker. After the incidents of yesterday, Logan calmed Virgil down and they talked calmly and rationally about the incidents that unfolded. He also attempted to make Virgil feel better by discussing his infatuation with Patton; any talk of emotions involving Logan was odd to hear but extremely intriguing (and distracted him from his own issues). They sat on the floor, talking until the end of the period and then moving the conversation to chatting for hours in Logan’s car. He may claim to not understand emotions, but Logan has a way of making Virgil feel better, no matter the situation. 

Nevertheless, Virgil rationally chalked the incident up to an accident. It was easy to do so, seeing as he doesn’t have to see Roman for a while and was probably remembering it injury as worse than it really was. It was Friday, so Virgil will have the whole weekend to compartmentalize the incident and everyone will forget about it by then. Well, that was the plan. Virgil was almost finished putting his books away when a hand harshly closed his locker for him. Virgil squeaked as he saw who it was. 

Roman Prince, looking as godly as ever in his signature red bomber jacket and chocolate locks, stood imposingly over Virgil (despite Virgil technically being taller, he does slouch quite a lot). Roman’s big white cloth bandage was the first thing you would see when looking at the other, the tape to hold it down also moved onto his cheeks. Virgil winced a bit more when he noticed there was also dark bruising around Roman’s eyes as well. No, the injury was worse than what he remembered.

The pair had never talked outside of gym, but here he was, a little over 24 hours since Virgil had destroyed Roman’s face, turning him from statue by Michelangelo to a painting by Picasso. 

“Hey… Roman,” Calling the other by his real name felt foreign on his tongue, but calling him Princey during this moment felt inappropriate. 

The awkwardness was thick in the air as Roman said nothing back. His fingers twitched slightly as he leaned an arm against the locker doors and he bit his lip, eyes trailing down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with Virgil. 

“I went to the doctor, my nose is broken, confirmed,” Roman stated simply, the dramatics in his voice were replaced by a dead and broken kind of disinterest. 

Virgil swallowed thickly, “Roman… You have to know how sorry I am. Logan was getting in my head about being competitive and… You kind of egged me on to score a point,” Roman eyes shot up to look at Virgil, shocked, “I take that back, it was all Logan,” He quickly finished, “I will do anything to make this better, do you want me to pay for your doctor bills, I can,” 

He cannot, but thankfully, Virgil did not have to worry about that as Roman waved him off, “I have pretty fabulous insurance, it was not too much, do not worry about it,”

Virgil nodded, sadly smiling. 

“However,” Roman continued, his usual stupor seemed to be returning slowly, “If you do want to do something for me, you could allow me to take you out for coffee,” 

“Take… you out?” Virgil repeated back, slowly. His brain and the words we were hearing were still disconnected. 

Roman chuckled, “Yes, that is what one typically does on a first date,”

Virgil mind went to a screeching halt as Roman said those words. His heart was not beating anymore, it was vibrating from nerves and pent up emotions. Confused as to why a man Virgil had injured so greatly could still be possibly interested in him in any fashion. The stars were not aligned for this to work out; they had already collapsed in on themselves and become black holes, sucking up everything in their path. Yet, somehow, in someway, Roman was standing in front of him with love in his eyes, willing to look past that. With every compliment Roman gave, Virgil would retort with a biting comment, how did Roman still keep his affections? Virgil would completely shutting down at any sign of physical affection and yet, here, standing before him, an angel walking on Earth was asking him to coffee. He could not understand how or why Roman could want that. How does one articulate these worries? How can Virgil express his fears to Roman without it seeming like an outright objection, because he want to be with him so badly? 

“I broke your nose,” He responded flatly, dumbly, and cringing in on himself because that was the wrong things to say. 

Roman sighed, ruffling his hair, “Yes, I do realise that that was a most unfortunate instance for both of us. But, it made me realise that our back and forth had gone on too long, and will only spur even more injuries if not sedated,” 

Virgil blinked rapidly, his mouth had gone dry and his heart was beating out of his chest as he stared at Roman, “I demolished your face, and you still want to go out with me?” 

Roman bowed dramatically, holding out his hand. Virgil flushed pink and awkwardly picked at the loose strings on his backpack. Roman looked up at Virgil through his eyelashes smirking, “I do, if you’ll have me,” 

Virgil held onto his hand, their fingers and palms coming together nicely, and Virgil smiled once more, “How can I say no to that?” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, please leave a kudos or comment if you did. Thank you.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: thealphabetmurders


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